-Of all the places you’ve ever been half-naked, the doctor’s office is most likely the least fun. You’re uncomfortable, cold, and being groped and grilled with questions about your sexual history. It’s like a one-night stand gone horribly, horribly wrong. My biggest concern, though, about going to the doctor, is that everything seems so exposed. The other people in the waiting room know something is wrong with you, the pharmacists know what medicine you’re taking, and my doctor types her notes into a computer that’s seen by God-knows-who. Increasingly, receiving quality healthcare means sacrificing some modicum of privacy. Our only choice, it seems, is the public option.

-Since I’m a borderline hypochondriac, I always tell my doctor about every minor bump or discoloration I’ve discovered in the past year. To assuage my unfounded fears, she sometimes shows me that she too possesses a few harmless marks on her skin. That doesn’t really make feel any better, Doc. Now we both might be dying.

-I receive healthcare at a facility in Los Angeles that also serves the Screen Actors Guild, so every once in a while I’ll spot a minor celebrity in the waiting room. Instead of thinking, “I wonder what he’s got,” I think, “Hey, isn’t that guy the 7th lead on 30 Rock?” And then: “I wonder what he’s got.”

-I plan on sending my cardiologist bill directly to the designer who placed the switch for the lights in my kitchen right next to the switch for the garbage disposal.

-If you tell someone you already got a flu shot this season, the first question they’ll ask you is, “Was it for swine flu?” No, jackass. First of all, the regular flu shot and the swine flu shot are two different things. Second of all, the swine flu vaccine isn’t even out yet. But if you continue coughing in my face, I’ll be first in line.

-Is there any history of high blood pressure in my family? Well, Doc, does the stress I’m feeling right now about remembering my “paternal grandfather’s cause of death” for your form count?

-I recently suffered a shoulder injury trying to catch a buddy of mine as he stage dived at his own wedding. After weeks of pain, I went to see Shermdog, my fraternity brother who’s now an orthopedic surgeon. It was bizarre seeing a kid I pledged with totally enter the zone as he gave me a full work-up. I was cracking jokes and he was completely serious. “Could you ever imagine this scenario when we were freshmen playing beer pong until we puked?” I asked. “What’s that?” he said, momentarily distracted from the exam. “Nothing,” I mumbled, having never felt more immature in my life.

-In the end, Shermdog diagnosed with me an anterior subluxation of the shoulder (otherwise known as “fat, drunk groom falling on you”), and a second injury, patellofemoral syndrome, to my knee (“Usually only found in twenty-five-year-old chicks who run too much.”) Although my ailments would most likely not become aggravated, Shermdog explained, the symptoms would only go away completely with rest and a series of simple stretches and strengthening exercises. “Thanks buddy,” I said, grateful to have finally received a logical diagnosis. I then proceeded to take absolutely none of his suggestions.

-As always, here are some random things I’ve been ruminating about lately…

-It doesn’t say much about your marketing department when I’ve had a credit card in my wallet for over a year and still couldn’t tell you without looking at it whether it’s a Visa or MasterCard.

-The first thing I do when my alarm goes off in the morning is estimate how late I would sleep if could I go back to bed at that instant. Average guess: 6pm.

-Some people in my gym wipe down the machines after they use them. Some before they use them. I prefer the “only when someone is watching” method.

-It’s really frustrating working with people who don’t understand sports metaphors: “Listen, we’ve been hitting doubles, and that’s great, but we really need to be swinging for the – wait a minute, you have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

-When there’s a power outage, I am easily confused about what will and won’t work without electricity. Can I use my BlackBerry? My toilet? My car?

-I thought my buddy very eloquently summed up how it feels to be engaged when he said of his fiancee, “She’s like a roommate you just can’t shake.”

-I was entertaining a very lovely lady in my apartment recently, so I decided to class it up by buying a bag of those cheap-ass miniature white candles I used to spruce up my room in the frat house when we had a party. You know what? That shit still works.

-Listen, guy, I realize the valley can get unseasonably warm, but you’re still in public. Put your fucking shirt back on.

-It’s good to know your blackout tendencies just in case your buddies try to pull a fast one on you the day after you get wasted: “Karo, dude, you totally told that chick you loved her.” Nah, that doesn’t sound like me. “OK, well, you tried to steal a bottle of Goose from the bar but instead almost dropped it.” Now that sounds more like something I would do.

-And, finally, while I’ve never liked going to the doctor, I’ve always thought it was a really cool job and – as I wrote in Ruminations #111 – am kind of obsessed with the day-to-day lives of my friends in the medical profession. It’s incredible then to realize that, after all these years of living vicariously through them – med school, internships, residency, and countless arguments over how Grey’s Anatomy is completely unrealistic – my friends are just now becoming attending physicians and making serious coin. It’s easy to forget that they were basically paid peanuts for all the grueling years it took to get to this point. Yet doctors are still being vilified by some in the current healthcare debate. Doctors are not the enemy. I for one feel comfortable knowing that the hand that gropes my privates is well compensated, several years removed from beer pong, and, hopefully, has been wiped down both before and after use. Fuck me.

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